


Crucial Repairs

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-03
Updated: 2006-03-02
Packaged: 2018-08-15 22:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8074417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Postep, 2.22 "Cogenitor." (05/10/2003)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: This is yet another follow-up after the last scene of 2.22 "Cogenitor." Feedback will help me decide whether to continue, although it will be a short chaptered story if completed.  


* * *

Captain Jonathan Archer sat at the desk in his quarters finishing up his dinner. It had been one hell of a twenty four hour day. From the time he had received the transmission from the Vissian captain about the death of the cogenitor his mind had been reeling with "whatifs" and "maybes". Then he had the damnable task of locking into the commanding officer mode to verbally thrash Commander Tucker after breaking the news to him. To chastise his best friend for one of the qualities he had found so endearing in the younger man from the moment he had first met him.

Porthos sat up and begged with a low whimper. Archer looked down and patted the beagle's head and then took a scrap of meat from his plate and fed it to the dog. He sighed and pushed back from the desk, moving toward the bathroom.

As he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he wondered why he didn't look that much different. He didn't look like the proverbial sack of manure he felt like. He took off his t-shirt then leaned down, turning on the faucet and letting the cool water splash his face.

Trip. What must he be feeling like? It wasn't enough that he had to lie and sneak, but he now had to live with the consequences of his good intentions. Life was not fair. And death was even more unfair.

* * *

The doors to sickbay opened to the shouts of Lieutenant Malcolm Reed beckoning the doctor. Phlox quickly rose from his parasitic research and turned to see the armory officer supporting a very pale and shaking Commander Charles Tucker.

"What happened?" Phlox asked as he took Tucker's other arm and ushered the pair toward a biobed.

"We were eating supper in the mess hall when he said he couldn't catch his breath." Reed explained as they eased Trip onto the bed. "He said his chest felt tight and his hands started shaking."

"Easy, Commander," Phlox calmly instructed as he moved to the counter to prepare a hypospray.

"All the color drained from his face," Reed said, his breath catching and making him swallow in a gulp.

Tucker's blue eyes were wide with fear as he looked up at Malcolm and then back at the doctor who came back to his side.

"There we go," Phlox said as he injected Trip in the neck.

"What is it?" Reed asked.

"Commander?" Phlox asked as he looked down at his patient.

The color was coming back into Tucker's face and he was breathing easier. He nodded to the doctor.

"It's okay, doc." Trip breathily responded.

"Doctor?" Reed impatiently asked.

"It seems the commander has had a panic attack." Phlox smiled and patted Tucker's shoulder. "He'll be fine. Do you want to talk about it?"

Trip turned his head away and shook it negatively.

"Well," Phlox said. "Then I suggest you go have a nice shower and get some rest. Come see me in the morning and I'll clear you for duty at that time if I see fit."

"I gotta work," Trip blurted out, almost too quickly.

"Then I ask you again," Phlox insisted. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Trip sighed, not wanting to talk about it at all. But he also didn't want to think about going to his quarters. Being alone was not at the top of his list of positives right now. Ever since he had gotten the news of Charles' death that morning, he had been in engineering burying himself with work. Impulse manifolds he could purge, but purging impulses within himself had never been easy. He sat up, slowly.

"See ya in the mornin', Doc." Trip mumbled.

"I'll see him to his quarters." Reed assured Phlox.

Trip allowed Malcolm to assist him off the biobed, but gently shrugged off the lieutenant's hand as they walked out of sickbay.

Phlox watched after the two officers. He knew, having been told by the captain, of the events regarding the cogenitor. The matter was on a "need to know" basis and the doctor had to be informed in the event grief counselling was needed. But, he couldn't aid the commander if he refused to talk. He moved to the companel.

* * *

"Phlox to Captain Archer."

The captain looked up from his kneeling position on the floor. He had been in a tug-o-war battle with Porthos over one of his socks. He jumped up and hit the button.

"Archer here. What is it?" Somehow he knew the answer to that.

"Commander Tucker just left sickbay, sir." Phlox's com voice informed him. "He had an anxiety attack while having dinner with Lieutenant Reed."

Jon closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the wall. "Go on."

"I've relieved him of duty until I see him in the morning." Phlox continued. "He won't talk to me. I know you have to be captain first, and friend later. But I believe later is now, or else it might be too late."

"I hear you, Doc. Archer out."

Still dressed in his sweatpants and t-shirt, without even putting on shoes, Jonathan Archer rushed from his quarters to see his friend.


	2. Chapter 2

Trip Tucker stood by his window stoically staring out into space. Malcolm Reed shifted uneasily on his feet, looking around the room while trying to decide what words to say.

Reed so wanted to know why Trip had taken the return of the cogenitor so hard. At first it appeared Tucker was resigned to the fact, but that was yesterday. All of this day the chief engineer was uncharacteristically distant and preoccupied. As much as Malcolm wanted to know what was going on, he would not pry.

"You should do as the doctor said," Reed finally spoke. "I'll see you tomorrow."

When no response came from his friend, Malcolm turned and started to leave. As he reached the door, he barely heard the words.

"Thanks," Trip whispered.

* * *

Surprisingly, as he barrelled down the corridor, Archer wasn't thinking of what he was going to say. His mind was fixed on one thing and one thing only; getting to Trip as quickly as he could.

As he rounded the corner he ran smack dab into Lieutenant Reed. The smaller man had been walking with his head lowered and almost was knocked down by the collision. But Archer had caught him by the shoulders.

"Captain," Malcolm stared wide-eyed.

"Excuse me, Malcolm." Archer apologized.

"No, sir," Reed countered. "I should have anticipated you'd be charging over here...I mean, well, that didn't sound quite right."

Archer noticed Malcolm giving him the once over from head to toe. No doubt the younger man found his captain's appearance questionable.

"Thank you for taking care of him." The captain waited for his armory officer to meet his gaze. "I was keeping my distance."

Malcolm wasn't sure if this was Archer's way of opening the door to welcome him into the tight circle of information regarding Trip and the cogenitor.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" Reed forged ahead.

Archer shook his head and let out a deep sigh. "Malcolm, I'm standing here in my sweats with bare feet. Go for it."

"Don't you think you were a bit too harsh on the commander yesterday?"

"You don't know the half of it." Archer told him.

"Okay, I don't, but..." Malcolm shrugged off his hesitancy. "Oh, bloody hell! Far be it for me to condone what Trip did, but he meant well."

Archer nodded, placing a hand on Malcolm's shoulder. "I know. That's what makes it so damn difficult."

The look shared between the two men was final, Reed knew. He was not going to be privy to anymore of the details, but that was all right. At least the captain was going to finally talk to Trip.

"Well, I best let you get on." Malcolm stepped aside. "Phlox told him to shower and rest. He wasn't making any attempts when I left him."

Archer nodded. "Good night."

Malcolm watched as the captain made his way to Trip's door hurriedly.

* * *

Trip had sluggishly managed to remove his boots and socks. That was as far as he had gotten. Now he was lying on his side on his bunk and staring out into the room.

The door chime could not even produce a response from him. He thought maybe Malcolm had come back for some reason, yet Trip didn't move. Malcolm would turn around and go soon, he decided.

The door slid open and out of curious reflexes Trip looked down toward the foot of the bed to see the captain. Somewhere, deep inside, he felt a pang of apprehension. But it was just a pang.

Jonathan Archer watched as Trip Tucker looked away and turned over onto his other side to face the wall. Jon moved slowly to stand next to the bed. He so wanted to make the hurt inside his best friend go away. But he knew that was not ever going to happen. At best it would just be dulled with the passage of time.

"You're suppose to be showering and getting ready for bed."

"That an order, sir?" Trip's hard emphasis on the reverence title did not go unnoticed.

"No," Jon replied. "Captain Archer went off duty hours ago. It's Jon, Trip."

There was a slight shiver of the blond man's body and then he curled up into a tight ball. Jon sat down on the bunk and placed an arm over Trip, resting it on the blanket.

"If you'd taken a good look at me you'd see I'm not dressed for ranks." Jon softly said. "Look at me, Trip."

Trip closed his eyes feeling frustration pulsating throughout his body. He knew Jon was hurting almost as much as he was, but he just couldn't forget the sharp tongue that had lashed out at him in anger.

"What do ya want?" Trip strained to say. "Me ta beg for forgiveness? Admit I was wrong? What?"

"No," Jon insisted. "I told you, Captain Archer's off duty. God, Trip, I have to put rank above our friendship. Duty before personal feelings. I play the damn devil's advocate when I wear that uniform and sometimes it eats me alive inside. But that's not what I'm here for, to explain my actions as captain of this ship in regards to the verbal reprimand of my chief engineer. I'm, Jon Archer, here to be with you, Trip Tucker my best friend. No 'you-should'ves' or 'why did yous.' Uncondtional support, if you'll let me lend it."

Trip inhaled a ragged breath and turned over to face Jon. His eyes were blurred by the unshed tears that pooled in the corners of his eyes. Jon's face was pained, but he was determined to be the strong one here, like always.

Jon wanted to reach out and engulf Trip into an embrace, but knew better than to push the other man. It had to be Trip's decision to let him comfort him. He could see the tears causing the faint light to crystalize pained, blue eyes that stared back. Come on, buddy, Jon said to himself.

"I—I can't..." Trip's choked sob managed. "Can't do it. Go on workin' like nothin' happened. Orderin' my people 'round in engineerin' like I was worthy of makin' decisions..."

"Uh-uh," Jon shook his head. "Don't go there, Trip. You have every right to the position you hold and to supervising other people. You made a mistake in your personal judgement on how to go about something you felt strongly about. That has nothing to do with your job aboard this ship."

"It has everythin' to do with why we're out here!" Trip hollered, sitting up and breathing heavily to compensate for the breakdown he kept a tight rein on.

"Yes, it does!" Jon raised his voice for emphasis only, then lowered it. "But not your job as chief engineer. Maybe you're not the best diplomat, but that's not a task you are assigned solely. What happened was a personal matter as a result of your taking that upon yourself."

The tears began to roll down Trip's cheeks and his lower lip began trembling. Jon kept his hands balled up in fists to keep from making the move.

"It hurts," Trip said before he broke down and leaned forward to place his head on Jon's shoulder.

Jon quickly wrapped his arms around his friend even though Trip's arms remained limp at his sides.

"I know it does." Jon consoled. "And it will. It's not going to go away anytime soon. But it will get easier."

"I thought I really pushed ya this time." Trip blurted out between sobs. "So that ya were so ashamed of me ya hated me."

"Naw," Jon said beginning to rock slowly from side to side. "Never. I may not like some things you say or do, but that would never change the way I feel about you, Trip."

"Cap'n Archer hates me." Trip said convincingly.

"No," Jon replied. "He's disappointed in his commander and himself. Maybe he knew it really was his fault, to some degree."

Trip's sobbing rose and Jon rocked him at a faster pace. He knew his friend needed to get this out to start healing. He was willing to stay as long as it took.

"After that stunt you pulled on the repair station with Malcolm," Jon continued. "I should've sat down and had a real talk with you. But I just confined you both to your quarters and left it at that. I never seriously warned you about your impuslive nature."

"Why don't I think things through?" Trip asked.

"When it comes to engines and technical matters, you do." Jon offered. "When it comes to emotions, curiosity and everyday living, you never did. That's part of why I befriended you, you know? I was taken by the way you jumped in and tried new things without second thoughts. Risk taker some called you, but I wanted to be like you in that way. And you brought it out in me some."

The crying had quieted and now Jon was just rocking him. Trip wiped his face with his hands and then felt Jon begin to pull away. But that's not what he wanted, so Trip wrapped his arms around Jon's waist.

"You're going to be hurting for some time, Trip." Jon told him. "But you have to keep in mind you need to forgive, but never forget. Don't let it destroy you. Let it make you stronger, wiser. And remember I'm here. You're not alone in this, by any means."

Trip pulled away and Jon stood up. "You should take that shower. It'll help you relax."

"I'm okay now," Trip said as he swung his feet over the side of the bunk. "Think I'll just go to sleep."

Jon nodded and Trip watched him move to the door, then turn back around.

"You going to be okay alone?" Jon asked with concern.

"Yeah," Trip replied, wearily. "Tough as nails, that's me."

Jon smiled at him. "Call me if you need anything. Okay? Anytime."

"I will," Trip yawned.

"Breakfast at 0800, Captain's Mess." Jon winked at him.

As the door closed behind Jon, Trip stood and began to unzip his uniform. As he got ready for bed, he thought about Jon, their friendship, the cogenitor, their brief companionship and about Malcolm.

Trip's impulsiveness had rubbed off on someone as staunch as Malcolm when they explored the ducts in the repair station. When the captain had gotten so sore at him for that, he hadn't really seen the danger. But now, he looked at it in a whole new light. He could've gotten Malcolm hurt or killed by taking him along and yet the other man had been enticed; just like Charles.

He closed his eyes and bit his lower lip at the memory. Yeah, it was gonna hurt for a long time. But now at least he knew Jon was there still. Being honest with himself he knew the inner strength he had was because of Jonathan Archer. As he crawled into bed and covered up, he decided he'd tell Jon that tomorrow at breakfast.

He would get through this. He would do it for himself, for Jon and for Charles. The lessons Trip had taught Charles paled compared to what knowing the cogenitor had taught him. He silently bid Charles peace, then closed his eyes and fell quickly into exhausted sleep.


End file.
